


Consider the Hairpin Bend

by dedougal



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Community: spnspringfling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-14
Updated: 2011-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 10:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/211667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a road up ahead that they're going to follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consider the Hairpin Bend

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Richard Siken's poem Jeff. Based on the prompt Jeff/Jensen and Roadtrip for the SPN Spring Fling challenge for ghostwriter056.

The road suits Jeff. Or maybe Jeff suits the road. They’d pulled over, ostensibly so Jensen could take a picture of the rough, scarred landscape of the Badlands, where the Moon Walkers had trained like it was an alien landscape, and Jeff had propped his elbows on the hood and crossed his legs in front of him. Jensen hid behind the lens of the camera, sure enough, but it didn’t stop his eyes tracing up the line of Jeff’s body, over the stubble he’d stopped shaving three days ago and up to the sunglasses that hid Jeff’s eyes. Even when the sunglasses came off, Jensen was never sure what Jeff was thinking. His sleepy half shut eyes tricked all too many people into presuming he wasn’t paying attention.

Jensen had learned this to his cost. He’d known – he’d always known – that Jeff noticed things that should have remained hidden. But Jeff had opened his eyes all the way, pinned Jensen against his seat in the booth opposite him, then leaned forward.

“I know, Jensen. I can see you looking.”

That had been all he’d said. They’d gone back to being two guys, road-tripping through the South West, making their way from LA to Dallas and taking in as much empty road along the way as they could. Yet, as Jensen rolled the words in his mind, he realised that Jeff had not been disgusted, not been at all annoyed. Had not told him to stop. Instead Jeff had leaned back and taken another swallow from his beer bottle.

The heat made the undulating road fizz and pop in the distance. It was really too hot to be standing out here, underneath a sky that was the deep pure airless blue of a burning hot flame. There wasn’t another car out here. There wasn’t anything really, for all the map claimed settlements and historic landmarks. There was the sun, the red dirt and them in the silence. Disembodied bird cries barely seemed to make a dent in the emptiness.

Jensen automatically clicked the shutter and recorded the landscape. He recorded what his eyes were seeing. Scarred and twisted bluff. Click. Empty ribbon of road. Click. Jeff tilting his head back to catch the sun. Click. Click. Click.

“You’re still looking.”

The phrase rumbled across the space between them. Jensen wondered if he was imagining it, feeling it in his bones before his ears and brain caught up. He let the camera drop against his chest. Jeff had turned his head towards him.

“Sorry.” No false pie-crust promises to stop.

Jeff turned his head back to the sun. Jensen wanted to stumble forward, fit himself along Jeff’s side, mouth his way along Jeff’s jawline. Instead he stopped and looked.

“When’re you going to get sick of just looking, Jensen?” Jeff’s voice was soft. It was as if he didn’t want Jensen to hear him. As if he was speaking to himself and to the clarity of the sky.

Jensen didn’t say it aloud. He unhooked the camera from his neck, heading to the open case on the rear seat. In his mind, he replayed Jeff’s words, over and over, and there was only one response he could come up with.

“Soon.”

 

The road brought them through tiny, dusty towns. Everything seem bleached of colour to a burnished beige, matching the soil. Even the clothes of the townsfolk – quaint, traditional, dressing up box cowboy – seemed to have lost any colour, any distinctiveness and turned to sludge and dirt. Jeff bought nasty tequila and plastic rattlesnake souvenirs, both the same shade of dead brown, “For Jared,” while Jensen fuelled the car. Then the road carried them on.

 

Evening was swift, knife edge dark. The sun hovered low, making Jensen squint behind his shades before dropping off the end of the world. He swore he could see the temperature lowering, stars taking the heat of the day into their brightness. Jensen pulled over again. Their stop for the night was not far, ten, twenty minutes away. But this deserved consideration.

Jensen stepped out, ignoring Jeff’s sleepy half voiced query. The silence was deader now, full of secrets. The headlights only lit the road directly ahead, making it a silver river. Jensen stepped around the car. It was more than black out here. It was the most solid night he could conceive of. And he looked up.

No sodium, no streetlights, no cars. No houses or offices or all night clubs that sucked you in and didn’t let you go until you’d lost your reason for being there in the first place. Nothing to take away from the way that the stars streaked white and fluorescent against the velvet. It was a child’s daubing of what the stars should look like.

“When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine…”

Jensen hadn’t heard Jeff come out of the car. Or rather, he had, but he’d ignored the crunch of boot on gravel, ignored the way the door shut softly. And Jeff surprised him, heat from his body making Jensen shiver, breath from his mouth caressing the back of Jensen’s neck.

“What?” Jensen wished he was more articulate, smoother. More able to untangle the skeins of words his lips were dying to let loose. He couldn’t help but turn.

“Romeo and Juliet. High school play. Things that lurk in your memory.” Jeff wasn’t chuckling over the reminiscence. Instead he had finally taken off his sunglasses and had opened his eyes wide. The stars were reflected in them, or so Jensen fancied, to be able to see him so clearly in the darkness. Or perhaps it was familiarity that made him see what Jeff was trying to say.

Two steps. Not a stumble. Two steps and Jensen was closer than he’d allowed himself to be before without other people around. There was no one else here now. No one else within endless barren, broken miles. Jensen brought his hand to rest on Jeff’s shoulder, palm slipping down over his collar bone. Jeff’s heart was wild and impatient.

There was a movement – there had to be – because their lips were pressed tight. Jeff’s hands slammed tight against the small of his back, pulling Jensen too close. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t… Jensen kissed back.

 

There were two beds in the room. They’d agreed to this as part of their plan. Ordinary rooms, ordinary places.

Nothing was ordinary.

Jeff tossed his bag, his shirt, onto the bed nearest the door then turned to Jensen. He looked his fill. Jensen threw his bag on the same bed and his sweat drenched and dried shirt joined it. Jensen could feel nerves he hadn’t know he still had start to twist and claw. He’d thought about this, thought about this since he’d first seen Jeff. But the way Jeff wasn’t shifting his attention, was seeing blood and bone and heart and soul, made Jensen chew his bottom lip.

That made Jeff move again, soothing the hurt with fingertips before kissing with lips soft and promising. It was nothing like the hard, brusque kiss of the road. This was the type of kiss that was sweet afternoons in Texas back yard hammocks with the barbeque charcoal burning and the kids three doors down playing in the sprinklers. This was the kiss that took no account of plans and itineraries and destinations. This kiss said Jeff had been looking back all along.

The kiss tumbled them onto the bed. They were, intellectually, too big for its narrow width yet they were pressed close and tight and it seemed the bed was miles wide. Jensen opened his legs, and Jeff fit between them like a jigsaw piece slotting into place. His chest was hard, for the most part, muscles tight and shaped by the gym. Age was forcing a little spread, a little protective covering of warmth. Jensen tangled his fingers in the dark curls on his chest and held on for dear life.

Jeff’s mouth drew out gasps and whimpers and noises Jensen thought he’d buried inside himself forever. He felt taken apart by clever teeth and tongue and hands. He barely noticed his belt being unfastened, his pants shifting down. It was as if all he could cope with was the places Jeff was touching him. Their cocks, naked, rubbing hard against each other, made him moan.

Jensen would happily have died then. He would have drifted off on sensations, drunk and full and sated. Jeff had other plans, propping himself on an elbow, smiling down at Jensen, sleepy grin turned vulpine. His hand traced patterns old as sin across Jensen’s chest, his stomach, his thigh.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

Jensen lifted his head to seize a panicked kiss. He poured his approval, his lust, his sheer desire into the touch of lips and tongue. Jeff seemed to understand, padding off the bed to the bag from the service station, pulling another brown bag from within. “For you.”

The lube and box of condoms were shrink-wrapped and tough to open. They made it a game, twisting hands and teeth and touches to break into them. It was serious again when Jeff had sheathed his cock, coated his fingers and knelt up, tall and dark and promising, between Jensen’s splayed legs.

It required deep breaths to get his courage screwed together. Then Jensen planted his feet on the bed, slid them wide and offered himself up.

 

The road was coming to an end, finally, rising over the last few ridges before it dropped into greener farm country. Jeff had taken the wheel, stolen the keys out of Jensen’s pocket with a sly hand and a penetrating kiss.

Jensen didn’t know what lay beyond the horizon. His maps were vague, lines on paper. No sense of towns, people, civilization. His body ached as he slumped down in the seat. He could count the hours of sleep on one hand, his eyes burned behind his sunglasses and every movement reminded him of the night too swiftly past. A twinge in his thighs brought to mind Jeff, lying back against white pillows, head tilted back as Jensen rode him sure and gentle. His back, the feeling of Jeff pressed up against him, cock nestled in the curve of his ass before catching once more and sliding home.

Jeff. Jeff. Jeff.

Jensen settled back in his seat and stopped watching the road.


End file.
